Granola Bat

Overall, in the last few months, things haven't been so much rough as they've just been... Mush. Like... unseasoned mashed potatoes. Equally joyless and painless. Equally without flavor or meaning. At least when I felt like shit last week, I felt something. It's pretty hard to figure out a balance of honesty about the natural pathos in my life and in my head, and maintain some level of aspirational-status that's generally a goal when you want to finally get around to monetizing your writing skill. And pretty much nobody wants to be what I've mostly felt like lately. Here's the thing, though. It ain't a sprint, and change comes from choice. Have I really been wallowing in same-old, or have I just not been paying attention? Here's a challenge if you're relating to any of this: Count ten things you're grateful for. Right now. Scratch them down on a Post-It, the back of a napkin, whatever you've got. Feel free to share in the comments

"Depression steals joy, but it also steals time. Depression steals time in my life that I would otherwise use creatively, to write, to read, to grow. It’s nearly impossible for me to be sitting here getting these words out of my fingers onto the screen — I’ve nodded off at least twice, I keep deleting things and re-writing them, not knowing what to say because I feel like it’s the same old story, told for the billionth time by the millionth person. Days go by and all feel the same because they are the same. When nothing new is created, a day is wasted. It’s something I’ve felt for years, and it’s something I feel even more acutely when I am not creating because I am stuck in a dark hole of depression, feeling like I’m without a good word to say. Depression steals my words from me." Full post here

I haven't been so compelled to write that it wouldn't let me do literally anything else, for quite some time. I'd much rather still be sleeping. Unfortunately (Fortunately?) something broke in me last night. That dam that holds in all the roiling mass of... nightmares? screaming? inner demons? Anyway, yep, that broke after threatening to all week. I hate it when I go from outwardly functional to not being able to turn off the waterworks for hours. David just sat there, alternately holding me and letting me fidget-pace around, streaming frighteningly-quiet tears and sobs, unable to stop the word-vomit of every little thing I usually keep in. If I'm honest, I haven't been in a safe place to actually let go or process what's actually going on in here since about 2008. It's now abundantly clear that this man loves every bit of me, even the fears and darknesses I haven't even told my therapist about yet. Even the Jerry Springer-level family drama that

Have you ever just been so Damn Over It? I've kind of felt like Sisyphus all week. Sometimes you just swallow the scream, and smile and nod. Looking professional enough on the outside helps protect the cash flow 'til the workflow feels natural again. Maybe it's just the weather. My anxiety has just been on a spike lately, and it leaves me feeling too tired to write, and frankly kind of mean but with few outlets. I don't know where the good karaoke spots are in this town, but I have a mighty need. At least I look fresh and profesh and manage not to throw the TPS report  at anyone. Or break any printers . The good days will come again. Gray sweater: Gap, thrifted Bow blouse: thrifted Pull-on pants: 212 Collection at Kohl's

Content notes for emotional abuse, threats, sexual coercion, and mention of physical abuse. Out of necessity, I've broken things down into smaller pieces than I was going to. The depression is somewhat improved from this time last week, but I'm still dragging ass -- And strangely enough, talking about past traumas doesn't make me feel any less tired! I lack the energy or emotional fortitude to speak about 3 different abusers today. It is necessary, though, that I speak of at least one. I hope someone, somewhere, sees the flags earlier and avoids going down this road -- or recognizes themselves and finds the resources to leave.  He had the most devilish grin -- My mom hated him. So, of course, I adored him. It was the early 2000's, and we lived in rural Indiana, so of course everyone our age was into nu-metal. He dressed sort of like he was in one of those bands. He was moody to match, and he had that certain early-oughts porcupine hair; surely you remember it. (None o

The Crone, photo by Fuzzcat This post contains an affiliate link to a book. If you click on a link and make a purchase, I may receive compensation. It's my continuing promise to never, ever recommend anything that I don't personally love. Happy Wednesday, y'all! During my unintended hiatus last week, I caught up on a little reading. So at least I feel like I accomplished something . Besides polishing off another chapter of crone archetypes for the winter season , I caught up on some of my favorite bloggers that I've recently followed. I'm pleased to say it was very difficult to narrow it down to five! 1. And She Stumbled Down The Rabid Hole She blogs about several things, including a variety of musical interests, horror and macabre aesthetics, and fashion - especially gothic spins on eco-fashion. A favorite post: DIY Cotton Pads (black, of course) Whenever I apply or wash off my makeup I use cotton pads. Almost every day. I came across the idea of